


Try Again

by youjokebut



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Drinking, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, and are thankful that another person can relate, happy-ish ending?, just two dudes that have been through a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 12:18:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youjokebut/pseuds/youjokebut
Summary: Jesse McCree has made peace with being a nameless stranger drinking and smoking his life away, until he meets Hanzo Shimada.McCree and Hanzo have a chat about their mutual depression and make each other feel better.





	Try Again

**Author's Note:**

> two dudes holding hands 2 feet away because they're depressed and gay. i wrote this at 3 am to get out some of my own feelings about my life! idk, thought i'd share

“You do not take care of yourself.”

Jesse McCree barely reacted to the stranger who stood beside him. He was leaning up against the outside of the bar, listening to the distant rhythm of the music inside, when the man spoke to him. He merely shrugged, cigarillo hanging from his mouth as he grunted. After taking a swig from his flask, he cleared his throat, response slurred and quiet.

“No reason to.”

He eyed the man next to him. He looked as exhausted as Jesse felt, the bags under his eyes so heavy they could resemble bruises. His long, black hair was slightly greying around his temples, his thin lips pulled into a tight frown. The man did not turn to him, lighting his own cigarette and fishing out a bottle from what looked like a worn jacket. McCree chuckled humorlessly, turning back to the open road.

They stood next to each other for a while, McCree taken aback by his odd, but not entirely unwelcomed company. Their conversation consisted of inhalation of smoke and coughing of tired, abused lungs.

It was as peaceful as it was sad.

After a while, the stranger spoke.

“We will not be like this forever.”

It was said so quietly, so quickly, that McCree thought he imagined it.

“Pardon?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at the other man. The stranger turned to him fully, his gaze holding intensity, but not necessarily anger. If anything, McCree would have called it hesitant determination.

“We will not be like this forever.” He repeated, words encouraging but his tone conveyed that he was trying to convince himself of the very concept. “We will not. We cannot.”

McCree looked at the other man, looking him up and down once the man trailed off. The stranger looked away from McCree, visibly tensing when he had looked at him. He turned away now, and McCree followed his lead; any passerby wouldn’t have any indication that the two had even spoken.

However, if they were to look close enough, they would see the stranger’s embarrassment and McCree’s fingers twitching. They would notice the visible tension between the two.

He wanted to tell the man off; for fuck’s sake, he was just trying to enjoy a peaceful smoke away from all the nosiness inside, and this grumpy, little fuck had to go and ruin it. His fists clenched, he was damn tired, not only physically, but being told that ‘it’ would ‘get better’. He had been told that all his life, and not once did anything in his life improve, but it got worse.

Everything bad thing that happened to him, he encouraged. Everything good thing that happened to him, he fucked up. Everything else, either insignificant or out of his reach. He had nothing good to look back on, and he was too far gone to look forward to anything.

But as he looked at the stranger, who looked as lost as him, he said something else.

“Sometimes, you gotta reach rock bottom t’ wanna pick yerself up again,” He mused, running a hand through his untamed scruff. The other man looked at him, seemingly surprised to even get a response. “’N sometimes you think you’ve hit rock bottom, when it ain’t even the worst life’s gonna throw atcha. ‘ventually, yer gonna get tired of being sad.

“But, in the end, it’s all upta you.” McCree said, looking meaningfully into the other man’s dark eyes. He smiled, his muscles straining to hold it. God damn, was he tired; he looked down, closing his eyes. “Can’t keep waitin’ on something t’ change, ‘cus it never will. You gotta change it.”

He heaved himself off the wall, scuffing out the rest of his cigarillo in the nearby ashtray. He felt the stranger’s eyes still on him, so he turned to him.

The other man’s expression looked pained, though not angry like McCree had thought it would. He held his cigarette between his two fingers tightly, tucking away the bottle in his pocket once again. His posture had changed, no longer did he stand erect, at attention. Now, he looked impossibly small, despite his wide build. McCree saw a flash of something he knew all too well in the stranger’s eyes.

Fear.

“It is so scary,” The stranger responded, his voice cracked as he met McCree’s eyes. “To not know if it is all worth it.”

McCree paled, the empty feeling in his gut felt impossibly heavier. He stared down into the stranger’s eyes, noticing the unapologetic wetness that struck them. He chest felt tight, his heart beat incessantly in his chest now.

He wanted to punch the other man, curse him out for reminding him of what he so often tried to forget.

But he didn’t. Looking at the man before him, he knew he couldn’t.

“I know.” He finally responded, breaking their gaze. He heard the man shift next to him; McCree wouldn’t be surprise if the man had half-expected another long-winded response. Truth be told, he hadn’t another one in him. He was out of hope too, just going through the motions, same as him. Surviving long enough before he could call it quits.

He hadn’t expected a hand to wrap around his wrist. He almost flinched away from the touch. Almost.

McCree looked down to find that the man was staring at him, a small, genuine smile brightening the man’s angular, frightening features. He was taken aback, shocked at the other man’s captivating expression and how it made his heart surge unexpectedly in his chest. He suddenly had the overwhelming urge to see that smile again, and again, and _again_ —

“We will not be like this forever.” The stranger finally said, smile now gone, but his eyes remained bright, hopeful. McCree’s stomach twisted delightfully at the sight. “If what you are saying is true, which I am inclined to believe it is, then I will not give up. And I get the sense that you are pretty stubborn yourself.”

McCree, not knowing what to say, just nodded, slack-jawed. The stranger nodded in affirmation.

Then he turned, letting go of his wrist (much to McCree’s disappointment) and taking his leave. He stomped out his cigarette, picking up the bud and discarding it. He looked one last time at the open road, almost wistfully, before grabbing the handle of the bar.

For a beat, McCree just watched him, heart still pounding in his chest. Then, he realized it was about time he took his own damn advice.

He leaned forward, grabbing the man’s arm gently to stop him. He man jolted around to face him.

“Wait ‘fore you go, I—” McCree babbled, before taking a breath. He closed his eyes, the sound of his own blood pumping was deafening. He opened his eyes, clutching almost desperately on to the other man’s arm.

Then he smiled, surprised at how easy it felt.

“The name’s Jesse McCree.”

The stranger grinned at him, looking almost relieved. The open-mouthed, wide smile made McCree think he could never possibly get tired of it.

“Hanzo Shimada,” The man replied, nodding his head and extending his hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Jesse breathed, meeting him halfway and enveloping the other man’s hand in his own, he relished on how _right_ it felt. “Th’ pleasure’s all mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
